


Scars

by seperis



Category: Smallville
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-06
Updated: 2002-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Permanent and temporary things. Lex plays artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Umm. Porn, basically, with color. Non-toxic paint is safe.

It's after midnight when he opens his eyes, the moon cutting cold white light across his floor, falling just short of the edge of the bed. Bright enough to read by if he wants to go blind before he's forty. 

He can still feel the sting from the scratches cutting across the skin of his back, eight parallel lines that had almost--but not quite--drawn blood. Sweat slides hot and sharp over torn skin, and he knows he winces, but Clark can't see, so it doesn't matter. They might even scar, leaving pale lines on white skin, and he makes a note to look at them before they fade. Soon, nothing but touch memory will tell him they're there. 

Lex likes his scars, always has. Reminders and proof and history all wrapped into one, written into the flesh of his body. Temporary, like the bruises Clark leaves on his shoulders and hips and throat, when he's pushed into the bed and the pain is just a goad, a promise, anticipation. Permanent, like the track marks on his inner arm and inner thigh, when he could find a vein in the dark through leather; the boxcutter that drew out color across both wrists, on his knees in the bathroom; the healed bones of his back from impromptu polo in London too drunk to know he was hurt; a few fine lines when the epee came too close and he played to hurt. All Lex's scars are like that. Visible only if you know where to look, how to see. 

Clark likes to lick them as he finds them, one at a time. 

Tip of a tongue in the crease of his elbow, following the brachial artery over thickened white flesh, the imperfections of healing, down to his wrist. Flat slow licks of his inner thigh, behind his knee, over his back, slower over the marks he's made himself, as if he's creating memory just by taste and touch. Always grins when Lex watches him, hazel eyes dark and warm. 

Spread out on his bed naked and only inches apart with Clark's hands ghosting over his body. Sharing the imperfections one by one with Clark, the story they tell, why he remembers. 

Tactile sharing, contact. Building a body memory between them. 

Lex never tires of touching Clark. 

All golden skin, now winter-faded from summer-tan, hot and slick with sex. Lying bonelessly on his stomach just beside him now, eyes closed, dark hair a tangled mess over his forehead. Lex reaches out to trace the curve of his cheek, thread fingers through sweat-damp hair, gets a soft sound and half-opened eyes in reply. Sleepily aroused, arms wrapping around the pillow, back long and naked. Flawless, and Lex has touched every inch, every muscle, traced it with his hands and his tongue, found every place that makes Clark twitch. Experimentally draws a finger from neck to the small of his back, tracing a line into damp skin, and Clark shudders beneath his touch. Lex raises himself on an elbow to watch, letting his nails slide up over the curve of his ass, stopping just at the cleft. 

Shuddering softly--Clark's eyes are closed now--Lex watches long blunt fingers tighten on the pillow. Slips back up, lazily writing his name in sweat, curving over the raised line of Clark's vertebrae. 

Lex. 

Disappears into nothingness, and he presses down with a fingernail, watching dull red blossom on gold when he writes it again. 

Lex. 

It'll fade in seconds, like it always does. 

Clark's scars are internal, written into the lines of his face and body. Adolescent insecurity in the hunch of his shoulders, secrets shading hazel eyes and tightening sharp lines around his mouth. All invisible if you don't know where to look, like his own, but Lex has known for years how to see. 

Lex wants to see more now. 

"Stay there," he breathes into the quiet. "Don't move." 

Slides off the bed, stops to simply look. So beautiful, all long clean limbs and sharp angles, softened by the baby fat age strips away as mercilessly and thoroughly as Lex strips his innocence. Eyes still closed, little shivers running beneath his skin. 

Comes back with what he wanted, sitting down on the edge of the bed to organize his thoughts. Clark's eyes open, fix on him for long, breath-stopping seconds of perfect focus, and Lex runs a slow hand down the slick back, feeling Clark arch up into it, hips lifting until Lex settles him with another slow stroke. Absently licks the taste of it from his palm, Clark and just beneath, sharp edges of himself. Soft cotton sheet smoothing down exposed flesh, dried and silky-soft. Rests a knee on either side of the narrow hips, cock settling in the cleft of his ass, making Clark moan and buck against him. Braces an elbow on the small of his back and picks up the first bottle, balancing it on Clark's shoulder. 

"Lie still." 

Dips a finger in the paint, the rustling dark green of Clark's eyes when he comes, staring into Lex's. First, just traces his shoulders. Deep green just below the shoulder blades. Practice, hand steady, measuring the thickness of each line he draws. Likes what he sees and sits up to enjoy the contrast. Such clear skin. Lex could draw equations on his back from memory, chemical formulas, mathematical paradoxes on smooth flesh. Fits the paradox he's touching, rubbing into Clark with each movement of his body and those fingers are biting into the pillow now. 

"Lex--please--" 

"Shh." 

Wide and dark letters, writing temporary scars into his body to match the permanent ones written into Clark's mind. 

Lex. 

Presses his fingers below, leaving prints, remembers his hands there when he fucked him hours before, pushing in. Long stroke down Clark's back to remind him of the first time they fucked, in this room, in this bed, when Clark tensed beneath him with the first press of his cock inside him. Watches it dry as he strokes stained fingers over Clark's hips and waist, leaving streaks of fading green. Raises himself on his knees and lifts up the bottle. 

"Turn over." 

Quick, barely moves the bed, and wide hazel eyes are staring into his. Both hands reach out and Lex guides them down, circling one wrist and drawing it down to his side. The other arm follows reluctantly, and Clark lays still. Licks his lips, breathing fast and hard, and Lex watches. 

"Raise your arms over your head." 

Little pause of thought before both arms go up, fingers laced together on the pillow. Lex looks at him as he lowers himself down, rubs against the hard cock and feeling the flex of Clark's body, instinctive thrust of his hips that make Lex grit his teeth. Pushes into the hard warmth of Clark's stomach before letting out a slow breath, getting his control back. 

Licks a slow line up Clark's chest, almost as hairless as Lex--God, so young. Beautiful. Strong lines of muscle he runs over with dark green, leaving fading lines. Bends down to bite one dark nipple, already hard and waiting. Licks the tip lightly, then sets the bottle down in the curve of Clark's arm and dips inside. 

Skin's drier from being pressed to soft cotton, easy to mark. Rubs it onto his mouth before he bites Clark's jugular, pressing in, leaving a temporary bruise in dark green the shape of his lips. Scrapes teeth the length of his shoulder, streaked color following, nipping hard muscle, and Clark bucks against him. Shuts his eyes and braces both hands on the mattress when he bends to one ear, licking the soft shell slowly and pushing his tongue inside to hear Clark's low moan. More green on his mouth to catch the edge of his jaw, the soft spot just below Clark's ear, the other side of his neck. Sits up to look, smearing the color darker with his fingers into shapes bruises would be if he could leave them on that skin. 

Clark, staring up at him, and he was right, the color's perfect. Heavy-lidded and lips parted, and Lex bends to nip, leaving a smudge on the corner of Clark's mouth. 

So, so beautiful. 

"Lex--" Silky soft whimper and Lex presses a paint-coated finger to those lips and traces an outline around them. Pauses to look, then more paint, smeared across his hands and his mouth. Licks short and hard just below Clark's collar, lets his fingers follow just above. Hard little nipples he has to taste again, settling on one and sucking, wet fingers twisting the other. Clark's entire body is tense beneath his, waiting and wanting and needing so badly. Rides Clark's cock just a little and lets him buck up, but both hands catch the wrists ready to move, pinning him down, cuffing him in finger-shaped green lines. 

"Not yet." 

Just a little more. 

Slides down a little, teasing a moan out of them both, and draws fine lines over Clark's chest with his fingernails, remembering the second time, on that night, in this bed, Lex on his back, breathing noisy, so hard he could barely think, and Clark's sheer wonder, the scratches that surfaced only briefly as pale red when Lex came. Muscles beneath the skin tense, quivering with potential, and he dips his head to lick around Clark's navel, soft hair there curling wet and dark. Colors that too, and Clark's cock is between his spread thighs. Waiting. 

Dull red, hard and dark with blood and want. Skips over it with only a trace of his tongue over the length and earns an audible groan. Knees on the mattress, pushing Clark's thighs apart, long and pale and exposed. Bottle balanced on Clark's stomach when he wets his fingers again, his mouth, pressing and smearing the length of each inner thigh, dragging his teeth and feeling Clark's full-body shiver. Pauses to trace the tight balls, wet them with a long, slow lick. Careful suck of each one, smiling at the arch of Clark's hips and low groans, incomprehensible pleading if you didn't know what to listen for. But Lex always listens. Smiles when he settles to suck at the juncture of thigh and groin, and Clark's bucking helplessly now into the air. 

Gorgeous when he's this helpless, this exposed. 

He'd go farther, but the sheets are rubbing into his cock unbearably and he can't wait anymore. 

Draws Clark's knees up, spreading them wide. Striped clean skin and dark/light color everywhere he looks. Stares into Clark's wide eyes, sweat standing out on his forehead, beginning to slick his body again, but the paint's dry. Finds the tube by touch on the nightstand table, never looking away. 

Slicks his fingers and runs them over the little hole in a tease that makes Clark buck again, slurring words into nothing but soft whimpers. Circles slowly, then presses inside, turning just enough to earn a soft grunt, then pushes in all the way, twisting up. Clark's back arches with a soundless cry and Lex rescues the bottle and sets in on the nightstand. Waits, holding still, feeling the trembling body settle, then does it again. Second finger goes in so easily, Clark's so ready, but Lex takes his time. Slow stretch, careful and soft, not rough yet. Opening him by degrees until Clark's twisting on the bed and Lex can't look away. Third finger and it's faster now, short, hard thrusts, Clark's head thrown back and his hands twisted so tightly together that the flesh shows yellow-white at his knuckles. 

Slicks himself quick and thorough, tosses the tube aside. Slides the head over and around, pushing blunt and hard into him, barely inside, and Clark's body goes the dangerous still just before a storm, every muscle wound to the point of shattering. 

"God, Lex, please--" 

Wets his trembling hands with paint and holds Clark's hips as he thrusts inside. 

God, it's good. Tight and hot and slick, buried so deep his balls are pressed against green-painted skin. Shaking a little as the shining dark clears from his vision, holds failing control at the edge of snapping, forcing himself to be still, Clark to be still with the grip on his hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. Hears Clark's ragged breathing just over the pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears, and then can move, slowly, pulling out enough to hear a whimper, then a hard push inside. Just as good, maybe better, but he's ready for it, takes the sensations with a gasp between clenched teeth. 

Slow fuck, setting the rhythm in his head while Clark twists below him, arching up to meet every thrust, trying to push him faster. Marks Clark with his fingers, the red lines his nails would leave now in green. Clark's hands come down and Lex catches one wrist, sucking a slow rhythm on one finger, then two, biting the second knuckle when Clark's thighs tighten around his hips, heels beginning to dig into the backs of his thighs. 

Flexible easy arch to reach that mouth, open and wet and so ready, licking inside and tasting soft heat and paint and sweat and himself inside. Searching within, burying himself as deeply in Clark's mouth as he is in his body, as he has in his mind. Traces hard enamel with the tip of his tongue, Clark sucking his tongue now, hard and fast, and damp fingers are on his shoulders, thicker and wetter than he expects. 

Clark's drawing too. 

Over his shoulders in slow, broad strokes and Lex comes up for air, spots of dark green before his eyes as each of Clark's fingers draw over his cheek, his chin, moving down his throat. Tactile study of his chest, down his sides, as far as Clark can reach. Big handprints on his back now, Clark reaching for more paint, spilling it frantically over his fingers. Lex's back is arching with each thrust, faster now, harder, bracing both hands on the bed to keep his momentum. 

Stares into eyes that can't look away from his as stained fingers slip across his nose, catch on his lips. Marks to match Clark's. 

"I want to watch." Bites it out, and Clark nods jerkily, one hand slipping down to grasp his cock, wet green and staining as he jacks himself. Thighs tightening painfully now, but Lex doesn't care--so close, everything rushes of pale skin and color and tight, wet heat. Clark's moans and his name on Clark's lips, spilling helplessly into the air over and over until Lex isn't sure what will get him first, the rhythm or that voice. Frees a hand and reaches down, twining his fingers through Clark's, jerks him harder, faster, their panting matched, just perfect, everything coming together all at once and Lex feels it uncoil inside him. 

Hot and wet and tight and _Clark_ , convulsing under him, the low, almost pained moan under him with the first shot of come hot against his stomach, and he can't hold on any longer. Everything explodes, and the world is all black heat and bright green life and he's still rutting mindlessly as he collapses onto the boy under him, Clark's cock softening slowly between their bodies, in their hands. 

Takes a breath and pulls out, and Clark's free arm goes around him, pulling him close. Soft hair under his chin as they roll on their sides, and Lex lets out another panted breath as his heart slows. 

That moment after orgasm, when everything is still and moving too fast--Lex just lets everything go. Closes his eyes and just breathes. 

Long time, before he feels Clark shift, hand coming up between them, and pushing Lex back just a little. Looks down as Clark traces something with come-slick fingers over his own skin, smearing the green already there, making another scar, temporary, but not really. 

Writes on his chest with shaking fingers, staring up at him. 

Lex. 

Perfect color of his eyes, perfect expression of his mind, of what's between them, and Lex bends and takes those fingers, licks them clean, tasting sweat and paint and Clark over it all, kisses that soft, full mouth that gives so easily beneath his. Legs tangled together, wrapping both arms around the slim body and pulling Clark close, finding the rumpled blankets with a kick of his foot and pulling them up around them. 

Close and warm, marked. 

Scarred for anyone to see, but only if you know where to look. 


End file.
